


He’s Wild In His Sorrow

by Flufflybunnypants



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Outlaw, Songfic, cowboy, red headed stranger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufflybunnypants/pseuds/Flufflybunnypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Willie Nelson's Redheaded Stranger (my father, oddly enough, used to let me fall asleep listening to that...) This is sad, no question. There are two chapters, one with Sam as the title character and one with Dean and both are sad and people die. Just like in the song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean

_Well, he rode into Blue Rock, dusty an’ tired,_  
 _An’ got him a room for the night._  
     Dean’s clothes are so stiff with dirt, he could probably take a bullet and all it would do is send up a puff of dust. In town, he takes the cheapest shelter, ‘cause he ain’t gonna sleep much anyway.

 _He lay there in silence with too much on his mind._  
 _Still hopin’ that he was not right.  
_      Hasn’t slept worth a damn since they disappeared on the same night, and he was left with a full saddlebag and an empty heart. Loss, he wagers, makes a man’s mind twisted. Like vengeance-driven zombie, he has pressed on, town after town, searching for a tall man with long hair and a short one with piercing blue eyes. Now, knowing he’s so close, the world seems heavier, like he was floating blindly, but now he must see everything in overwhelming detail.

  
 _But he found them that evenin’ at a tavern in town,_  
 _In a quiet little out of the way place.  
     _ For a little cowpoke town, the tavern looks cozy. He sees them the moment he walks in, eyes locked on eachother, caught in tender touches and soft smiles. Sam’s hand dwarfs Cas’ on the table. Cas leans in to talk to Sam like they’re a secret too sweet to tell. They don’t ever turn to him. Fitting, he thinks as his gun smokes by his side, since they never did think of him anyway.

_An’ they smiled at each other when he walked through the door._  
 _An’ they died with their smiles on their faces._  
  
 _They died with their smiles on their faces._

  
_The red-headed stranger from Blue Rock, Montana  
_ _Rode into town one day  
_ _And under his knees was a ragin’ black stallion  
_ _And walkin’ behind was a bay_  


He’s been on the road so long he can hardly stand inns. Chevy’s antsy, hates being tied to a post for the night, but Charger follows, ambling easy. He’ll stay the night before he moves on, moves further from them.

_The stranger had eyes like the thunder_  
 _And his lips, they were sad and tight_  
 _His little lost love lay asleep on the hillside_  
 _And his heart was heavy as night_

Never thought he’d bury his brother, never thought he’d lay Cas next to him. Even in death, they won’t be separated. Dean swears as his mouth fills with the taste of copper. Every time he thinks of them, he ends up biting his goddamn cheek until it bleeds. And maybe, choking back blood hides the tears easier.

_A yellow-haired lady leaned out of her window_  
 _An’ watched as he passed her way_  
 _She drew back in fear at the sight of the stallion_  
 _But cast greedy eyes on the bay_

Jo watched as the man rode down Main. He was the ticket, her ticket out of this town. He’s got a spare and the means. She’ll just have to persuade him.

_But how could she know that this dancin’ bay pony_  
 _Meant more to him than life_  
 _For this was the horse that his little lost darlin’_  
 _Had ridden when he was alive_

Dean keeps Charger to remind himself of who he is, what he’s worth. That horse will trot after him, true evidence of his guilt. Sammy loved the damn gelding, and Dean will care for Charger in his memory. It’s penance. Not enough, never enough, but a beginning.

_The yellow-haired lady came down to the tavern_  
 _An’ looked up the stranger there_  
 _He bought her a drink, an’ he gave her some money_  
 _He just didn’t seem to care_

The woman who boldly sat with him thrusts her chest out, batting her lashes. Her name’s Joanna, that’s all he knows. He’s just trying to get drunk enough to sleep, but she’s got another agenda. He doesn’t really give a damn.

But when he’s leaving, mounted up on Chevy, she reaches for Charger. Her hand doesn’t even touch the bastard’s bridle. He’s the quickest draw, no hesitation left. She falls, someone screams and Dean sighs. It’s inconvenient.

_She followed him out as he saddled his stallion_  
 _An’ laughed as she grabbed at the bay_  
 _He shot her so quick, they had no time to warn her_  
 _She never heard anyone say_

_Don’t cross him, don’t boss him_  
 _He’s wild in his sorrow_  
 _He’s ridin’ an’ hidin’ his pain_  
 _Don’t fight him, don’t spite him_  
 _Just wait till tomorrow_  
 _Maybe he’ll ride on again_

     There’s an investigation, but it’s cursory at best. The sheriff wants Dean out of town anyway. He can judge a drifter by the look in his eyes, and he knows Dean’s so far gone, he’s got no reason to care about anyone. They bury the girl, she was just a girl Dean learns, as the sun sets on the cold earth. Dean wonders if the appropriate emotion is remorse. But that kickback and the smell of gunsmoke. It feels right, the way the gun slots into his hand, as right as Chevy under him as he rides hard. 

_The yellow-haired lady was buried at sunset_  
 _The stranger went free, of course_  
 _For you can’t hang a man for killin’ a woman_  
 _Who’s tryin’ to steal your horse_

_And if he should pass your way_  
 _Stay out of the path of the ragin’ black stallion_  
 _And don’t lay a hand on the bay_

You can’t outrun memory, of course, but you can still run. Someday, he’ll stop runnin’, give the Texas Rangers a chance. See if they can kill the monster in him.

_Don’t boss him, don’t cross him._  
 _He’s wild in his sorrow:_  
 _He’s ridin’ an’ hidin his pain._  
 _Don’t fight him, don’t spite him;_  
 _Just wait till tomorrow,_  
 _Maybe he’ll ride on again_


	2. Sam

 Sam rode into town in the wake of the setting sun. A wake, he almost laughs. There’d be no wake tonight. Those devilish blue eyes can damn well get plucked out by carrion. Sam takes a swig from his flask. There’s still red wine and enough of Ruby’s powder to keep him going. He’s learned to like the thick, metallic taste.

     All Sam can think is it’s a pity that Dean had tried to intervene. His body had lost all its grace and appeal as it lay in the dirt, sullied as it was by an ounce of lead and Cas’ sinful fingerprints. Now Dean’s nestled deep in the earth, eyes closed like he’s sleeping. The green grass will grow over Dean’s hill, and everyone who passes will know the color of his eyes. Cas’ bones will be desiccated until they shatter into brittle shards. 

     He hitches the horses in front of the tavern, leaving the bay mare behind his stallion. The stallion was another gift from Ruby, the mare had been Dean’s. Dean’d looked right, sitting pretty, following Sam. Until the son of a bitch preacher decided he had a right to take what was Sam’s.

     Jess watches the man below. He’s big, a little clumsy while walking. Drunks are her favorite. They’re easy to talk to, easy to pull into bed. Sure, she’s a whore, but she’s a damn good one. Might as well do the job well before the job does her in.

     In the tavern, he’s sitting, slumped down, legs kicked out to hear his spurs leave grooves in the wood floor. Somehow, his head clears as he drinks more tequila. Dean’s gone. His heart clenches, but his eyes remain dry. He looks up to find a woman there, hair like sun-blessed wheat. She’s talking and leaning provocatively towards him.

     He buys her a drink, but she’s small where he wants muscles, gentle where he wants rough. He tosses some change on the table and walks out.

     He doesn’t think he’ll stay in town tonight. Cas is too close, too close by far. He mounts up, long legs pinning the stallion easily. The woman has followed him out to the hitching yard. She reaches for Dean’s horse; Sam draws and shoots, quicker than a rattler. That sharp crack and her surprised, pathetic gasp are like music to him. He wheels and rides out, before anyone can come after him.

     Maybe tonight he’ll go find Ruby. She’s the closest thing to human comfort he has left. She knows how to make it hurt. She’ll pull him in and call him her monstrous, little prince. She’ll crown him with daggers and anoint him with blood. After all, the monster is all that’s left. He might as well be the Monster King.


End file.
